I WOULD have loved: there are no mates in heaven; I would be great: there is no pride in heaven; I would have sung, as doth the nightingale The summer's night beneath the moone pale, But Saintes hymnes alone in heaven prevail. My love, my song, my skill, my high intent, Have I within this seely book y-pent: And all that beauty which from every part I treasured still alway within mine heart, Whether of form or face angelical, Or herb or flower, or lofty cathedral, Upon these sheets below doth lie y-spred, In quaint devices deftly blazoned. Lord, in this tome to Thee I sanctify The sinful fruits of worldly fantasy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MARRIAGE VOW by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON CHILDREN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR WHEN I PERUSE THE CONQUER'D FAME by WALT WHITMAN TO W. HOHENZOLLERN: A PLEA by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS WOMEN'S WAR THOUGHTS by MARY HUNTER AUSTIN I'D BE A BUTTERFLY by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY EPITAPH; INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT ERECTED BY GENTLEMAN FOR HIS LADY by JAMES BEATTIE |